Sour Grapes
by LaCorelli
Summary: NWZ. Luis Ramone has a bad day. Written for the Too Much Wine Challenge.


**Author's Notes:** This is a response to Knotheadsrus's challenge: Title: Too much wine You must include : 1. Someone must drink "too much wine" 2. a new saber/sword 3. a kiss from a stranger 4. an argument/fight between friends 5. at least one sword fight.

At first this idea didn't much appeal to me, but I had been looking for an excuse to do another short Luis Ramone centered story, and I thought he might be excited by acquiring a new sword and then the other parts started sliding into place.

This story begins the day after the end of "White Sheep of the Family" and around a month after "Broken Heart, Broken Mask." Also this was written in partial collaboration with Ghetto Outlaw, who got really enthusiastic about the plot when I told it to him and who is responsible for most of the sword fight.

I've been holding this one back awhile, but as I've once again gotten behind with my writing and spent the last week suffering from a nasty series of headaches myself (and thus gotten even further behind and yet making this story so appropriate to post right now), I thought I'd try to cheer myself up by posting something, and I'm rather fond of this story. I hope it's as entertaining to others as it was to me.

**Sour Grapes**

Luis Ramone slowly opened a single unsteady eye. "Oh, that's bright," he mumbled before closing his eye again. Where was he? His cheek was flat against something hard, and he appeared to be in a sitting position. Had he really fallen asleep at his desk? He carefully worked open his eye again, this time making out the two empty wine bottles that sat forlornly next to an equally empty glass. Had he drunk both of them? He couldn't quite remember, and it didn't seem to matter. He still couldn't forget his brother, hard as he tried.

With great care he lifted his head from the desk. It was throbbing but not so bad once he got upright in the chair. At least until someone started banging on his door and it felt like they were banging on his head. There could be only one person there and forgetting for a moment how much it would hurt, Ramone opened his mouth to yell, "Mend— oh, my God," the last came out as a pained whisper as he dropped his head.

Mendoza opened the door a little hesitantly. "Ah, _buenas días_, _alcalde,_" he said as he opened the door and came in carrying a sword with an elaborate hilt. He approached the desk cautiously. "I've got your new sword. Señor Delgado brought it, but I knew you wouldn't want to be disturbed by too many visitors today."

With Mendoza's voice grating on him, it took a moment for Ramone to focus on the object the sergeant was carrying. He'd been looking forward to its arrival for weeks. Only he wasn't exactly in the right frame of mind to appreciate it. Mendoza set it on the desk in front of him, and he carefully reached out to try to pull the sword from its sheath but the sound of the blade sliding out jarred his head too much to continue, and he leaned forward head on his hands.

"Um, you don't look well, _mi alcalde_," Mendoza said. "Were you up all night?"

Ramone stared up at him balefully, daring him to say one word about the empty wine bottles or make any comment about the fact that he was obviously the worse for wear because of them. When Mendoza just stood there waiting, Ramone finally said in what he hoped sounded both confident and intimidating but realized probably came off as weak since he was fighting the throbbing in his head. "Yes, as I was considering the sad state of this garrison and its men." Glaring was easy at this point. "I could use some breakfast. Go to the tavern and bring me some." As Mendoza turned to obey, Ramone had too clear an image of the man slamming the door, so he added, "Quietly. Like a mouse afraid of the cat."

Even the sound of the door quietly closing annoyed him, and he put his head back in his hands trying to will away his hangover and thought about the excesses of the previous evening. He never drank too much wine, yet he had. And now he couldn't remember if it was to forget his twin had tried to kill him and take his place or that the people had liked Vicente better despite the fact that he was a murderer. _Vicente is a murderer and a thief_, the words echoed in his head as he remembered asking if that was why Zorro helped him. And Zorro's words: _He was so charming. He impersonated you so badly_. Vicente had always been the silver-tongued one. The one that fooled people so easily until he'd taken their money, their women, or their lives. Ramone had always taken some pride that he wasn't like that. He wasn't a murderer. He'd never killed anyone—illegally. He wasn't a thief either— not really. He worked for the government. What he did was no more than expected. Governments would collapse without a certain amount of corruption.

God, his head hurt worse the more he thought. Was he getting maudlin again? Better to stop trying to think. Or move. There was a sudden increase of pounding in his head. Maybe he should try to slink off to his bed and not leave for a week. But no, the pueblo would be anarchy if he did. They'd think he was hiding or ashamed or know he'd been weak enough to get drunk over his foul blight of a brother who made him look like one of God's angels in comparison. He'd have to show his face in the pueblo today, but first he needed to get himself into a fit state to be seen. Perhaps some breakfast; he should have told Mendoza to bring coffee and lots of it, but he hadn't been in a fit state to ask. Bad enough that Mendoza was seeing him in this weakened condition.

He leaned back against his chair, careful not to move too much, and closed his eyes. As his head continued to pound, he had one thought: _What was taking the idiot so long? _He needed something to help clear up the aching in his head.

Five minutes later, the door opened loudly, and Ramone opened his eyes just enough to glare at Mendoza who was carrying a tray.

"Sorry, _mi alcalde_," Mendoza said, walking over to the desk and putting the tray down with a slight thump that earned him another glare.

"And what is this?" Ramone demanded looking at the half filled glass sitting prominently on the tray. It was roughly the color of mud and smelled about as appetizing.

"That was Don Diego's idea. He said it was a good remedy for a ha... headache," Mendoza said.

Ramone looked at the glass for a minute, debating whether or not to drink it or tell Mendoza to dump it outside. De la Vega was such a do gooder; he knew it wouldn't be poisonous. But what would a man who drank nothing stronger than lemonade know about this kind of headache. On the other hand at this moment he was willing to try anything if it could get rid of the pounding in his head.

Of course, staring at the strange concoction wasn't making it any easier. Finally screwing his courage to the sticking place, Ramone closed his eyes and lifted the glass to his lips. In one quick motion, he drained the cup, gulping down the contents as quickly as possible. For a moment he felt nothing, and then his head exploded like Zorro had punched him then set him on fire. After an agonizing moment, the fire and the pain passed. Ramone was surprised to realize that his head was still attached to his shoulders, and that the clouds were lifting from his mind.

He looked at Mendoza. "Do you know what Don Diego put in this?"

Mendoza shook his head. "Oh, no, _mi alcalde_. He just said it would help your head."

"I see," Ramone replied. It was really extraordinary how much better he was feeling. He should find out what was in it. Not that he intended to overindulge again. Ever. He hated being weak. He glared at Mendoza again. "That's all, Mendoza."

"_Sí, mi alcalde_," the sergeant said, backing up to the door, this time managing to close the door quietly, since it no longer actually mattered.

Ramone rolled his eyes, and then looked down at the tray. He wasn't particularly hungry but decided to eat anyway. He needed his strength to go out and face the town with his head held high. After finishing his breakfast, Ramone went back into his quarters to wash his face and change his clothes. He was determined to look his best.

~Z~Z~Z~

Once he was back in his office, he looked at his new sword as it lay on the desk. This time as he pulled it from its scabbard the sound hardly annoyed him at all. It was a beautiful piece of work and just the thing to help him deal with Zorro. A few minutes later, Ramone entered the plaza, the sword hanging by his side, and tried to pretend that the glare of the sun wasn't bothering him as he crossed the plaza to the tavern.

He entered the tavern, with his assumed air of confidence easier to maintain outside of the bright sunlight, though he did have to pause to let his eyes adjust. Before he could get more than a few feet into the tavern, he was greeted by the ridiculously annoying Don Diego.

"_Buenas días_, alcalde," Don Diego said, in a voice that was just a bit too loud and a bit too grating. "You're looking well; I hope that the headache remedy I sent over was effective."

"Yes, reasonably well," Ramone said, then in a more snide tone. "Have you had much cause to use it, de la Vega?"

"Not personally," Diego said. "I got the recipe from a traveling Englishman, after having to spend one too many Saturday mornings being told I was turning pages too loudly. However, my fellow students ended up swearing by it instead of at me, so I have great belief in its efficacy for dealing with certain kinds of headaches."

"Of course," Ramone said. _The prissy de la Vega never touched wine. It might keep him away from his precious books or arts._ He contemplated the image of a drunken Don Diego trying to paint. Smirking slightly, he was about to say something when he noticed that Don Diego's attention had strayed away from him to Señorita Escalante who was behind the bar reaching up to one of the upper shelves.

"Victoria!" he called out, hurrying across the room.

_Has the man finally realized she's a woman_? Ramone thought.

He watched as Don Diego took down the heavy pitcher that Señorita Escalante had been reaching for. The young woman looked at him with irritation, hands on her hips. "I didn't need any help," she said.

Diego placed the pitcher on the bar top. "You do need help," he said. "It's barely been a month since you were shot."

"I'm fine," Victoria said.

"No, you're not," Don Diego insisted. "You almost died. You need to take more time to heal. And that means not overextending yourself."

Victoria looked more irritated. "I'm well enough, Don Diego. I've been doing this for a long time."

"Yes, and I noticed how you've been favoring your side."

_Yes, you have, _Ramone thought, _only not the side I suspect she would rather you notice!_ He'd noticed that the señorita tended to be rather possessive of Don Diego's attention at times. It didn't really surprise him as with the family's wealth and position, a de la Vega would be a much more attractive prospect than a bandit even for a loud-mouthed tavern owner. He suspected that her flirtation with Zorro was more to inspire jealousy or annoyance or maybe even to pass the time in an otherwise dull pueblo. The señorita made it clear that she didn't flirt with her customers. Of course, she had too much of a temper to be worth the bother...

"Not that much," she replied. "I'm used to the work."

_Obviously, señorita._

"Why are you being so stubborn?" Diego asked.

_Victoria Escalante stubborn? Tell me it isn't so!._

"_I'm_ not the one being stubborn," she insisted.

"_You're_ the one who insists you're fine when you're obviously not. Just let me help."

_Please let him help, so he'll quiet down._ Ramone's head was starting to hurt again just listening to them. _He's as stubborn in his own way as she is in hers. Could two such different forms of obstinacy manage to cancel each other out? God, I hope so._

"You?" She sounded incredulous

_No surprise at her surprise; de la Vega is hardly a practical man._

"Yes," he said. "I can be useful...if you would let me."

_I doubt, de la Vega, that you could be useful in the way she might want and certainly not in any way she might need._

At about this time, Ramone decided to stop paying attention, as it was becoming farcical. Don Diego couldn't see the obvious if it hit him in the head. Considering how increasingly despairing Don Alejandro was getting over his son's unmarried state, Ramone wondered why Señorita Escalante couldn't have contrived to trip and fall into Don Diego's lap while Don Alejandro was around. It's not like Don Diego would even realize what was going on until it was too late. It might be amusing to see what happened if they married. It might even annoy Zorro enough to get him to leave town. Who was he kidding? De la Vega was practically a monk, and Señorita Escalante was in training to be an absolute harridan.

Tired of listening to two blind, clueless people squabble, Ramone made his way back outside. There was a table in the shade, and Ramone sat down and looked out over the plaza. The Monterrey coach had pulled up, and he decided to see what kind of people would be paying the traveler's tax today. He expected the usual merchants or other middling travelers. What he did not expect was the strange looking woman that hopped out of the coach. His first stunned impression was of feathers. An obscene amount of ostrich feathers from an overly elaborate head dress seemed to extend up and around her head to the point that he wondered how anyone else could have shared the coach with it to an equally elaborate though not quite as expansive layer of feathers surrounding the edge of her bodice. The dress was a gaudy concoction of red and purple. He found it impossible to look at the woman's face as his eyes were drawn completely to what she was wearing. He was wondering what would bring such a feathered creature into Los Angeles when she settled the matter for him.

"Papi!" she squealed, running in his direction.

Looking around to see who she was calling to, Ramone was taken aback when the woman launched herself into his lap, nearly knocking him off his seat, and started kissing him wildly while babbling at him madly.

"Oh, Papi!" she repeated as she kissed him. "I knew I'd find you. You were very naughty not to tell your little Carmen you were leaving."

Finally, breaking free of the shock of her assault and a face full of feathers, Ramone stood up suddenly, knocking the strange woman to the ground. "Madam," he said, trying to be the picture of affronted dignity. "What do you think you are doing?"

The woman immediately hopped to her feet, undaunted, feathers floating around her. "Now, Papi, you can't be upset with me."

"Madam, I have never seen you before in my life, and believe me," he raked his eyes over her outlandish outfit, "I would remember if I had."

Still unabashed, the woman ran her hands down the lapels of his coat and said in what he thought was supposed to be a playfully scolding manner, "Oh, Luis, there's no need to pretend with me."

Ramone grabbed the woman's hands. "Madam, I am not pretending. I do not know you. We have never met— ever."

The woman stared at him for a moment but before she could say anything, Ramone was taken aback when a man suddenly interposed himself between them and with his head half turned said to the woman, "See, Carmen, I told you he'd be like this." He looked at Ramone, who was having a little trouble focusing on him as the light glared off the gold embroidery on the gaudiest red suit he had ever seen. Combined with a heavily ruffled shirt, it made the man look like a puffed up rooster. "I told her you were nothing but... an inconsiderate... swine!"

"Ricardo!" the woman exclaimed. "Stop being so rash. I only let you come with me because you insisted."

"Someone has to protect you from the scoundrels in this world," Ricardo insisted, puffing up his chest.

Looking at this incredibly gaudy birdlike pair and for the woman, the term _bird of paradise_ seemed remarkably apt, Ramone started to have a horrifying realization of exactly what was going on. Dear God, this was one of his brother's women plus a rival. And just when this day was almost getting better. Once again, he cursed his brother for using _his_ name with another disposable woman. He knew he had faults enough on his own, but he resented his twin saddling him with a reputation for vices that weren't his. After all, he had standards and conning loose women out of their savings before running for the border was beneath him _and_ his ambitions to become a major landowner, accepted in the highest levels of society.

Trying to keep his dignity intact, Ramone said, "I think I understand the difficulty, I'm afraid you're under a misapprehension. I have a twin who has made it a bad habit of abusing my name; he in fact has just been chased from town. If he owes you money..."

The posturing coxcomb interrupted him. "Of course, you owe her money. And we're not going to be put off by a ridiculous story of twin brother."

Ramone almost rolled his eyes, but his head still hurt. "You can ask anyone in this town. He made a public spectacle of himself only yesterday. The simple fact is that the man you want is long gone. I suggest the pair of you fly back to whatever gilded coop you left and chalk this up to experience."

Ricardo pulled out his sword. "I demand satisfaction." He pranced about a bit with what Ramone thought was supposed to be a display of skill but looked more like the spasms of a sick chicken.

"I very much doubt you will receive any," Ramone replied, considering just tossing the man into jail. Frankly, he didn't want to bother with or be reminded of yet another of his brother's misdeeds.

He glanced down at his new sword and back up at the idiot in front of him waving his sword in a blustery fashion. While his head still bothered him and all he wanted to do was go back to his room at the cuartel, he was tempted to accept the challenge, as he had his doubts about his opponent's skill level, and it would be a pleasure to break in his new sword with someone other than Zorro for once. He'd like at least one victory, and this should be an easy one.

Ramone unsheathed his sword and leveled the tip at the man's face. "This, sir, is your last chance to yield," Ramone said deliberately and, considering how he felt, with a little hope the fop would just back down.

"I would rather die a thousand deaths than yield to the likes of you!" Ricardo spat.

"Have a care, sir. I might do worse and send you home with your lady friend."

"Oh, oh, oh, well, I...I...ooooh!" Carmen squawked.

Ricardo lunged awkwardly, thrusting his blade forward, which Ramone easily avoided with a downward circular parry and side step. As if on cue, the crowd that had been assembling, dutifully fanned out to give the two men more space.

"You shall pay for that insult," Ricardo roared.

_I already am_, Ramone thought as the throbbing in his head returned with renewed vigor.

Again, Ricardo came at him, swinging his weapon haphazardly, alternately striking Ramone's blade and empty air. _Good grief! It would seem I grossly overestimated this man's ability!_

"Are you quite certain it's _me_ you are trying to injure?" Ramone quipped.

Ricardo relented for a moment and though winded managed to retort, "I will have you know I have studied both the Italian and German schools of fighting!"

"Indeed," Ramone purred, "I'm afraid, sir, that only helps if you actually go inside."

Even more angry, Ricardo flailed and lunged at him again. Ramone easily sidestepped and tripped his opponent who fell face first onto the ground, sword flying. As he turned over, Ramone pointed the tip of his sword against Ricardo's heart, wondering what he should do next. It was tempting to throw him into jail for his presumption, but then he'd still be around and so would the annoying Carmen, and really he'd rather they just go, as he was in no mood to keep reminders of his brother's deficiencies even for a moment. However, before he could speak, a familiar and truly annoying voice broke into his reflections.

"Ah, alcalde, either your skills are improving or you faced a truly abysmal opponent," Zorro said. "From all appearances I'd say it was the latter."

Ramone sighed. Perfect, the sanctimonious bandit appeared. Now whatever happened, it would be because of the magnanimity of the masked man, unless...

"Zorro," he said. "I don't believe anyone here is in need of you. And this petty misunderstanding is surely beneath your notice. It's bad enough it was thrust upon mine."

"Any misunderstanding with you tends to rise above the petty in consequence," Zorro replied.

"Not at the moment," Ramone said, with a smug smile on his face. "I was just about to extend my mercy to this misguided fellow. After all, he was merely trying to— mistakenly— to protect his... um... friend. I have no intention of holding such... chivalry... against him."

"I am not mistaken," Ricardo said defiantly. "You're a cur and I am ready to die for my Carmen."

"Ricardo!" Carmen cried rushing to his side.

"Señor, much as I'm loathe to side with our alcalde," Zorro interjected, "in this instance I have to say that you've attacked the wrong man. He does indeed have a twin brother with a bad habit of impersonating him and that twin left town only yesterday." He looked at Carmen. "Madam, you seem to have a far better man in your friend here than in the man you're pursuing. True devotion and loyalty is hard to find, and I believe you will find more contentment if you return home with the man who is willing to go to such lengths for your happiness than continue to chase a coward who hides behind his brother's name."

Carmen was looking at Ricardo with what Ramone assumed was affection but to his mind bore a striking resemblance to heartburn. "Are you really willing to die for me?"

Ramone thought he'd be willing to die just to get away from her but wasn't in the least surprised at the prancing peacock's response, nauseating as it was.

"My dearest," Ricardo spouted and clutched his hands to his chest, "I would stare down the most horrible death imaginable. I would scale a thousand mountains. I would swim the deepest, darkest, seas. I would..."

"Or you could just stay home with her!", Ramone interjected, suspecting that the little fribble could go on for some time otherwise. "In fact, why don't you start now? I believe the coach will be leaving soon, and I suggest you hurry on your way."

"Will you, Carmen?" Ricardo asked.

"Oh, yes!" Carmen shrieked peppering her erstwhile defender with kisses.

Ramone rolled his eyes as he watched them head to the carriage chattering to each other. He sighed with relief as he watched them drive away. Only then did he turn to see Zorro still watching him. What was he waiting for? Oh, that.

Spreading out his arms in resignation, Ramone said, "Go ahead. Cut your Z. It will complete my perfect day."

Zorro smirked at him. "Well, actually, I intended to suggest you wipe the señorita's lip rouge from your face, but far be it for me to deny your request." Zorro's sword slashed over his vest leaving that damnable mark.

Ramone looked down at his coat and sighed dramatically. "I was not intending to bother calling for the lancers, but we might as well play this out, pointless as it is." He turned to walk back to the cuartel. "Lancers!" he called, wincing at his own voice. He didn't bother to look back as he heard his incompetent men failing at their task and realized he was only adding to his own misery with the noise they were making. He told the lancer nearest the door that he wasn't to be disturbed for anything other than a fire in the cuartel and headed back to his private quarters, locking himself in.

After thoroughly washing all traces of the bothersome Carmen from his face, he dropped into the bed, regretting leaving the office this morning. He should have come here straight away. Though perhaps things would have been more awkward with the feathered menace shouting loudly for her "Luis." _Damn Vicente_.

He didn't know where he was, but he was thoroughly sorry he'd shown him so much mercy. Brother or not, if he ever saw Vicente again, he would make him pay. Ramone half smiled. It was too bad he couldn't set the prancing rooster and the squawking hen on him. Vicente deserved it. Still, he would think of something.

The End

**End Notes:** Since I don't have any experience with drinking but I do have experience with nasty headaches (I've been plagued with them most of my life, but last week was an unusually nasty bout), I decided to skip the drinking phase and go straight to the hangover phase which I found more entertaining. Also the hangover cure was in part inspired by the description of P.G. Wodehouse's Jeeves' hangover remedy hence the reference to a passing Englishman who I suppose could be Jeeves' however many great grandfather.

I do so love writing Ramone stories (and I've finally decided that the daft spelling of his name is just more proof of how wrong he was). He's delightfully wicked and entertaining to write, though sometimes I feel like I'm too nice to him, as he certainly deserves all manner of horrible things to happen to him.

As always all feedback is appreciated.


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